


Long Way Home

by aimh



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Harry is really lame, Louis is a bit of a show off, M/M, Pining, SO MUCH FLUFF, Strangers to Friends, but Louis thinks it's cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:00:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4779818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimh/pseuds/aimh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is tired and Louis is smitten. They meet on the bus.</p><p>or, the AU where Harry falls asleep on Louis and Louis isn't complaining</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i may or may not make this a proper, chaptered fic?????
> 
> also, i've got no idea how accurate this setting is, so sorry for that
> 
> *UPDATE: i WILL be continuing this as a chaptered fic!! number of chapters and things of that sort are still undetermined. oh, and i do plan on making chapters longer than this, so think of this as a lil introductory prologue kind of thing. i'll get the second chapter out ASAP, and until then, thank you so much for reading!!! x

The air was cold and snow was threatening to fall. It was a Friday in December, the last day of the semester. Louis had just gotten on the crowded bus back home after staying late to finish grading the term papers. He loved his job, he really did, but grading was absolutely horrible. Some of the kids still didn't even know how to use proper punctuation, like, c'mon. 

It was the first stop of many. Louis lived pretty far from work, he liked it that way. There was something comforting knowing that he wouldn't run into his students when he went to go pick up some eggs and a new box of tea. He was mulling over tacos or a bit of curry for dinner when he saw him.

He tripped when he got in. The toe of his gold boot hit the bottom of the bus and he surged forward, eyes opening wide and hand quick to grab the bar next to the door. His hand went to fix his fringe as he continued up the steps. 

"Y'alright there, H?" The driver looked like he was stifling a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good. A bit tired is all." So he goes by "H" then. Mysterious. 

He looked up, cheeks still a bit red in embarrassment, eyes scanning the bus for a free seat. And, okay. This "H" may actually be one of the most gorgeous boys Louis has ever seen in all of his 24 years. 

Long. Long, broad, and beautiful. That's what he was. Louis also decides that H has got quite the color palette. Pale skin, brown hair, light green eyes, full pink lips. He can't be real. 

"Excuse me? If it's not that's totally fine I can always-"

"Wait! No, I'm sorry, um. What?" Louis hopes he doesn't sound like a total twat. He also hopes he hasn't made too much of a fool out of himself, can't believe he was so entranced by this boy that he didn't even realize he was speaking to him. 

"Would it be alright if I sat here?" H has got a finger pointing to the seat to the right of him. And is that a tattoo?

"Oh! Yes, of course, definitely," Louis grabs his rucksack from the seat and places it next to his feet. "All yours." 

"Thanks, mate." H drawls, smiling down at him as he sets his own bag down. And, great. He's got dimples. Louis hopes he's not too obvious with how much he's staring at him. 

The ride is uneventful from then on. Tons of frequent stops and too many people and this is exactly what Louis hates about public transit. If his car wasn't such a wreck he'd have been home ten minutes ago. But now he's stuck here, a twenty mile drive and a quarter of a mile walk from his flat. 

The only thing that makes this situation better, he supposes, is the modern day Adonis sitting right next to him. He's got a faint smell of peppermint, vanilla, and sweat, and Louis decides he quite likes that smell. He's looking out the window at the dark streets of Manchester when he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns his head then and is met with a face full of soft brown curls. Clearly, Adonis has had quite a day, because he's knocked out cold, lips parted ever so slightly and letting out steady breaths. 

Louis's first instinct is to smile, which he definitely does, because hey. This is great. It's Friday, he's on break until next semester starts late next month, and he's got a cute boy snoozing on his shoulder. 

It dawns on him then that as much as he would love to be this boy's pillow, he has to wake him up. He can't just leave him sleeping until his stop.

"Hey. Hey, mate," Louis uses his left hand to reach over to try and shake his shoulder, but of course, his arm can't reach that far. Perks of being little. He settles for his hand in his hair instead, gently scratches at his scalp with what little nails he has. "Mate," 

"Mm," He mumbles as he leans in closer. And, alright. Who even is this kid. He's asleep on his shoulder and purring like a small kitten, which, for the record, is the exact opposite of what he is. Louis moves his right arm, trying to shake this baby of a man off of him. 

"Mate, my stop is soon," He rests his hand on his lower thigh and just like that Louis is finally free to move again. H has got his hands rubbing his eyes now, trying to shake the sleep off him. 

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry," He's looking into Louis's blue with his green with red creeping into his cheeks again. "I've had the longest day. I swear this isn't something that happens all the time it's just-"

Louis raises his hand to stop him. He can't help the smile that's creeped up on his face. "Hey, slow down. No harm done, it's all good, really." The worry on H's face goes away a bit at that, and Louis can feel his smile widen. "You smell quite good, too." What? Did he really just say that out loud? Louis wants to punch himself. 

H smirks then. "That so? Could say the same about yourself. Very comfortable shoulder too, for the record." He winks at him and Louis thinks he could die happy now. 

He's saved from having to think of a reply when he realizes they're a couple of minutes away from his stop. 

"Sorry, love, but I've got this next stop," he scoots forward to the edge of his seat as he slings his rucksack on his back.

"Wait..." H looks over Louis's head and out the window. "Where are we?" 

"Liverpool, mate." Louis watches as his eyes get bigger.

"Bloody hell, I was supposed to get off ages ago in Prescot."

Louis is quick to think. "Are you busy tomorrow?"

"What? But, no,"

"Get off with me."

H's eyes get ten times bigger. "Excuse me?" 

The bus stops then and Louis gets up, sticking his hand out for the other boy to grab. "Just come on." 

Louis leads him off the bus, his hand cold and clammy against the firm grip from the other boy. They're stood at the bus stop now, about a five minute walk from Louis's flat. 

"Okay, genius, now what?" 

Louis stands there for a minute looking at his feet. "Let's just walk to my flat, yeah? We'll figure it out." 

The other boy just stands there looking down at him. 

"What?" 

"I can't believe I've actually listened to you." Louis's heart sinks. He's dumb. He is so so so so so so dumb. He should have just left him hopeless on the bus and forgotten about him over a tub of mint chocolate chip. "I don't even know your name but I'm following you to your flat! How ridiculous is that, innit?" 

"It's Louis, you twat. And hey, I'm trying to be a good person and keeping you from wandering alone at night. Plus, I don't know your name either."

"'M Harry. And how do I know you're not a serial killer?" 

"Oh please, Harold, do I look like a serial killer to you? Besides, you're like twice my size. That wouldn't work." Louis stares into Harry's eyes and falters a bit. He doesn't do well when people stare at him with that kind of intensity. "I mean, if you've still got your doubts-" 

Harry cuts him off, smiling at him. "You're so cute. Which way to your flat, love?"


	2. Chapter 2

They've gotten through all the standard, boring, typical introductory questions. Age, job, hobbies, and Harry is actually a living cliché. He's 22, works in a small coffee shop, and is an amateur photographer. Louis would usually roll his eyes if he heard of someone like this - would probably snort at how typical it sounds. But it's different with Harry, can't stop imagining how cute he would look set behind the counter, apron on and brewing coffee and preparing pastries, a bit of flour smeared across his cheek, maybe even a bit in his dimple. Or even behind one of those massive, fancy cameras with the lenses as long as his forearm, probably in some weird standing position to get the angle just right. Cute. Harry is so cute.

"Finally," Louis groans as they get to his building, huffing when they reach the stairs. They walk up the four sets to Louis's flat, already armed with his keys in his hand. "Welcome to my crib," Louis says proudly as he keeps the door open for Harry to walk in.

Louis has a pretty nice flat, honestly. The perfect size just for him. He never was into the whole roommate crap, likes having his own space. It's crisp, clean, and modern. He went for the minimalist look, all white walls and clean cut furniture, nothing incredibly over the top. He's set loads of framed pictures and little knick knacks he found at the thrift store on the book case to make it feel less like an IKEA show room. And upon Zayn's recommendation, added candles and succulents. He even bought him a record player last Christmas, which is for sure one of Louis's favorite pieces. He only does have one proper record though, hasn't felt like spending so much money on one, but that's okay. It's got an AUX cord, which is good enough for Louis.

He switches the ceiling lights on, and alright, Louis probably should have considered the state of his home before bringing this boy over. He's got clothes thrown about on the couch, a basket of unfolded laundry by the coffee table, and dirty dishes in his sink. He scolds himself, mentally noting that a clean house is important if he wants to impress any boys.

"Sorry about this," Louis makes a show of gesturing to his whole house. "Wasn't exactly expecting company."

"Good to know, thought that maybe you've actually been stalking me, chose tonight to make your move."

"Oh, god, stop flattering yourself." Harry laughs, and then so is Louis, happy that this isn't entirely awkward. "Tea?"

"Yes, please." His nose still has a blush of pink from walking outside in the cold. Louis wants to kiss it warm.

He gets the kettle going and takes a look in his refrigerator. All he's got is milk, eggs, a tub of vanilla Greek yogurt, and a half eaten sandwich from two lunches ago. So, nothing to eat then. He looks up at Harry from where he's hunched down to look in his fridge, and is met with Harry in his living room, gathering all of his loose clothes lying about.

"No, no, no," He's run to Harry now, grabbed him by the shoulders to turn him around and yank the clothes out from his arms. "No. Stop, you don't need to do that." He tosses the garments in the basket along with the unfolded laundry. "And I swear, those are clean."

"C'mon, Lou, I'm just trying to help." Harry's made his eyes bigger and got his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly. What a baby.

"And I told you you don't need to, so please." And Louis wouldn't admit it, but he's totally embarrassed. The world's most beautiful man is in his home and is cleaning his damn living room because he's too much of a slob to ever get cleaning himself. He wonders what his mum would say. Then again, he’s always been like this, so there’s that.

Harry moves to talk, opens his mouth and already has his eyebrows raised, when the kettle starts whistling. Louis breathes a sigh of relief, really didn't want to continue this conversation. "Tea time!"

They sit next to each other, mugs placed on the kitchen island. They drink in comfortable silence, which is definitely nice. Louis doesn't think he could keep talking to him anyway, would absolutely 100% end up making more of a fool of himself. He's enjoying the warmth of his tea when the silence is broken.

"You're so little," Harry has a playful smile on his lips, eyes full of fond. He gestures to Louis's bottom half. "Look at your little legs, feet can't even touch the ground." And alright, honestly. This is bullying.

His eyes follow Harry's, noticing now that his feet barely touch the stepping bar of the stool while Harry's can reach the floor, and then some. Um, what the fuck.

"Okay, but have you ever considered that maybe you're just a giant?"

Louis looks up and meets Harry's eyes. They look like they're twinkling. He's smiling at him, chuckles a bit. "Little Lou."

Louis groans, turns completely away from Harry and buries his face in his arms, nose pressed up against the cold countertop. "You're a menace," he mumbles into the cotton of his jumper.

But really, Louis likes it. Loves it, actually. Loves that they've just met but they can openly tease each other. It's so nice and refreshing, because when he comes to think about it, the only real friend he has right now is Zayn. He can't wait to tell him about Harry actually, might just ask him to come over tomorrow because he knows how offended he’ll be if he doesn't say anything right away.

"Lou," Harry is scrunched down to Louis's face now, mere inches apart from him. Louis can feel his breaths on his ear. He turns his head to the side, peeking his eye from his inner elbow. "I have to pee."

"Down there and to your right, pal." Louis offers, weakly pointing, not even bringing his head up. Looking at Harry makes his head hurt, gives him too many feelings. Harry whispers a thanks down to him, and for the first time in the past three hours, he's alone.

It doesn't last long, though. Harry wanders back into the kitchen a few minutes later, hands damp and smelling like cucumber melon.

"You never told me how gross I look," Harry resumes his previous spot, plops down right next to Louis.

Louis finally looks up, eyeing the boy. "What are you on about?"

"I had dried drool on the corner of my mouth! And I smell disgusting. I'm like, 5% Jo Malone and 95% sweat."

"Chill out, mate," Louis laughs, because this kid gets so worked up over the slightest things. "You can shower if you'd like. I was about to have a go myself, actually, but guests first."

"I don't have any extra clothes."

"You can borrow something, I've got some over sized pieces that would be able to fit you."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"I'm calling you big foot. Now go, smelly. I'll get you a towel."

Louis waits on the couch, and he is not thinking about what Harry must look like in there, isn't thinking about bare skin and hard abs, hot water running down a muscular back, the slight curve of his bum, thick thighs. Isn’t thinking about Harry’s massive hands and where they’re probably touching himself right now. Nope. Not thinking about it. Definitely not. He does hear singing over the water though, a low rumble floating through the air from his bathroom.

_"So tell me you love me, and if you don't then lie, lie to me,"_

Louis recognizes it easy, there's no way he wouldn't have been able to. His favorite band has been Coldplay since he was a child, has had Ghost Stories as one of his favorite albums ever since it came out two years ago.

Louis lays there, hands folded behind his head and legs stretched out, bare feet nudging the pillow at the end of the couch. He closes his eyes, still listening to Harry's voice. It's so relaxing, this. I mean sure he still feels gross, can't properly lounge in comfort until he's taken a shower for himself, but he doesn't think he's felt so at peace before in his life.

It's been so long since Louis has been in a relationship, been so long since he felt so attracted to someone. Honestly, it's mainly because he hates sappy shit like this. His past relationships have all been horrible. He falls too hard and way too fast, and they always end in broken hearts, pints of ice cream, lots of tears, and snuggles from a stressed out Zayn.

He's avoided dating ever since he got out of uni three years ago after a hell hole of a breakup. His last relationship was with a boy named Tyler. They had met sophomore year and were together for four years. Louis hates thinking about him. He hates that he thought that they were a forever thing, hates that he so willingly gave himself up to him when he clearly didn't mean anything to him. He cheated on Louis, got caught shagging another man in their bed. Turns out, Tyler had been cheating on him the whole time, on and off, new guy after new guy. Some of them were one night stands, others were recurring. Louis had stood in their doorway, tears blurring his vision as he stared at his boyfriend on top of some other bloke. They hadn't even noticed him until Louis slammed the door, immediately leaving and driving to Zayn's, a shaking, teary eyed mess.

Louis never saw Tyler again. Zayn blocked his number on Louis's phone, told him that if he ever needed Louis he would have to go through him first. Zayn, bless him, even went to their flat to take all of Louis's stuff, made it clear to Tyler that he wouldn't be in any kind of direct contact with Louis ever again.

He has since devoted his life to his family, his job, and Zayn. None of those would ever fail him.

He's saved from his train of thought when he hears Harry. “Louis,” He blinks, slowly sitting up, hands brought to his eyes to rub the tired away. “Sorry to be a bother, but I think now would be a nice time for a change of clothes. Don’t want to be running around your flat naked.”

He turns to look at Harry now, and oh. Okay. Alright. It's not like Louis had expected him to not be fit, but this was way past his expectations. He has his towel tied dangerously low on his hips, bare torso on full display, still damp from the steam. His arms are bulky, but still soft, littered with tattoos. He’s got tattoos everywhere, actually. Arms, torso, right above his hips. Louis zeroes in on his happy trail, and he just wants. Wants so, so much.

“Hello, earth to Louis Tomlinson.” Harry’s waving his arms everywhere, and shit. Again with the staring. Louis has never actually considered that he may have a staring problem, but maybe this is just a thing he has for Harry. Yeah, this is definitely just a Harry thing, but who could blame him, honestly. He’s gorgeous.

“Right,” He obviously must look as flustered as he thinks, because Harry’s smirking at him again. Of course he is. “I’ll be right back.”

Louis quickly shuffles over to his room, letting himself get a breather before actually looking for something for Harry to sleep in. He rests his forehead against his door, closes his eyes, and just breathes. “Fuck.”

\-----------------------------------------------

Sunlight filtered through Louis’s windows, prompting him to wake up. He moves to lay on his back, just stares at the ceiling. He isn’t sure if he believes last night actually happened or not. He’s still got a clear picture of Harry in his mind. The brown curls and green eyes, long, lean body clad in a towel. The smirking, the dimples, the teasing. Louis doesn’t think it’s real, can’t be. Just another silly dream, he reckons.

Except it’s not. Louis sits up, swings his legs over the edge of his bed. He yawns, stretches his arms up and over his head, starts getting his blood flowing again. It’s then that he hears noise coming from his kitchen. He thinks of maybe preparing to attack whoever may be down there as he pads out into the hall. That’s when he peeks over the wall, darts his eyes all around his kitchen, and sees him.

It’s Harry, clad only in the sweats he vaguely remembers fishing out of his closet. He looks over to where he slept, his couch. The t-shirt he had given him is on the coffee table, neatly folded and next to his backpack. So, not a dream then.

Louis watches him, watches how his muscles move and his arms flex as he does whatever he’s doing with his stove. He has the record player on, has got Matt Healy singing about sex and drugs in the background. Louis can’t help the small smile playing at his lips, eyes watching this boy he’s barely met in his kitchen. It’s awfully domestic, hasn’t been in this kind of situation since Tyler. Louis has missed this, definitely. And if he wishes that he could have this every day, with Harry, so be it. It’s nice. It makes Louis feel nice.

“Oh! Louis,” Harry notices him by the doorway when he turns. “Morning, sunshine.” He offers him a smile, which Louis gladly returns, as if he wasn’t smiling at him already.

“What’s all this?” Louis takes a seat on a stool, raising his eyebrows at the bowl of berries sitting on the countertop, immediately going for the raspberries.

“My thank you.” Harry simply says, turning his back to Louis once again. He switches the stove off then, plates the omelette and tops it off with a bit of ground pepper. Harry walks over to him, places the omelettes and mugs of warm tea in front of him.

“Where’d you even get all this? I had like, nothing in my fridge.”

“Took a morning walk, stopped by Tesco. Now, shut up and eat.” Harry smiles at him, stuffing a blueberry into his mouth.

And once again, Harry has found yet another way to impress him. He isn’t exaggerating when he thinks that this is the best thing he’s eaten since he’s last visited his mum. See, Louis isn’t exactly a chef himself, usually ends up going for takeout or something microwaveable. But this. This is amazing. He tells Harry as much.

“Yeah? You really like it?”

Louis nods, can’t speak with his mouth full of egg. He adds a thumbs up for emphasis.

“'M glad,” Harry starts, downing a bit of his own tea. “It’s the least I could do for letting me spend the night.”

“Well I’m grateful, Harry. This is lovely, thank you.” They share small smiles with each other before continuing to stuff their faces.

When the plates and mugs are all clean, they retire to the couch, absolutely stuffed. “So. What are you up to today, what kind of shenanigans? Gonna pick up another boy on a bus and bring him home?”

“Oh, fuck off, Curly. You’re a special case, couldn’t have these dimples wandering alone like a stray kitten.” Louis reaches over to him, pokes at Harry’s dimple as it appears when he smiles at him. “And nothing, actually. Gonna have a nice lazy day I suppose. What about yourself? Any more homes you’ll invade for the night, any more charming young lads that you’ll thank with an omelette and berry blend?”

Harry's still laughing, shaking his head. “No, of course not, no. Do have an appointment today, though.”

“That so?”

“Yeah, got booked to do a shoot for some girl’s 18th birthday pre-party or something. I don’t even know.”

“What’s that like, then? Ever done anything like that before?”

“Loads. They’re the worst, actually,” Harry chuckles, scratches the back of his head. “Nothing but a bunch of snotty teenagers in big dresses and far too many requests." Louis’s laughing along with him. “Honestly, all these kids care about is getting nice pictures for their Instagrams. It’s right ridiculous.”

“Can imagine. I’ve got four younger sisters, mate. They live for the likes.”

They laugh over stories of Harry’s photography gigs and Louis’s classroom antics. It’s a nice Saturday morning, and it’s all because of Harry. The only thing that can make this better would be if he could kiss him. Yeah, Louis definitely wants that.

The fun and games are cut short, though, when Harry has to leave for the appointment.

“Yeah okay, Niall, I’ll be out,” Harry says before stuffing his phone in his pocket. He has his backpack on, is standing right in front of Louis. “Again, thank you so much, I really, really, really appreciate it.” He closes the distance between them then, arms wrapping around Louis’s waist in a firm, solid hug. Louis stands up on his tippy toes, wraps his arms around Harry and rests his head in the crook of his neck and smiles.

“Can honestly say it was no problem. Thank you for breakfast.” They pull their heads away, staring into each other’s eyes, smiling. They reluctantly let go of the embrace, Louis the one to take a step back first. “Okay, get on with it, get out of my house. Be the photographer to get that girl the most likes on Instagram that she’s ever had.”

Harry chuckles, playfully pushes Louis’s shoulder. “Will do,” he says as he turns for the door. He steps outside, looks at him again before walking away. “Bye, little Lou!” he teases over his shoulder.

“A menace, Styles!” Louis calls after him, right before he closes the door.

And okay, that happened. He walks over to his couch, jumping on his back, intent on having a morning nap before he calls Zayn to come over. It’s then that he feels a piece of paper underneath him, quickly reaches his right arm behind his back to fish the paper trapped between his back and the couch. It’s a post-it.

_Thanks again for helping me not die. Call me, sweetcheeks!!!_

_Harry xxx_

And if Louis squeals, well. That’s okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really hope this chapter didn't disappoint! i've got most of the rest of the story worked out, and i'm actually really excited to write it all out. thanks again for reading!! x


	3. Chapter 3

"Spit it out then, mate."

"He's perfect, Zayn. Absolutely stunning." Louis stretches his legs out, resting his feet on his coffee table. His hand holds his phone right by his ear, can picture the smile he knows Zayn has on his face right now. He'd much rather tell him all this in person, but he's apparently already made plans for the day without him. Some best friend he is.

"Have you got in his pants yet?"

"Who do you take me for? No," Louis scoffs.

"And why not then? If he's as fit as you say he is-"

"No, the thing is, I don't want to just shag him." Louis pauses, looks up at his ceiling. He closes his eyes, lets out a heavy sigh. "I think I _like_ him, Zayn."

Zayn doesn't say anything. Not right away, at least. Can't believe his Louis is proper crushing. I mean yeah they've gone out to pubs and he's spotted a cute one or two. But ever since Tyler, he's never heard Louis sound so flustered over a boy. He would tell him that he's probably being dramatic, is probably just full of lust, but he literally went on for thirty minutes about his hair alone, so, yeah. This is serious.

"Zayn?"

Louis hears him laugh on the other end. "I'm really happy for you, Lou."

\--------------------------------------------

It's been a week, and Harry has been on his mind ever since. Whatever he does, Louis just can't stop thinking about him, can't get the vision of curly hair and long legs out of his mind.

"Just fuckin do it, man." Zayn kicks his ankle from underneath the table. "Honestly. What's the worst that can happen? 'Sorry but I'm busy, _sweetcheeks_.'?"

"I hate you so much." But he's blushing, of course he is. Cheeks going a pretty rose as it usually does whenever he thinks of the note Harry had left him.

"Seriously, though. If you don't call him then I will."

See, Louis's birthday is tomorrow, and he'd much like for Harry to spend the day with him. He doesn't even know why, actually. It's not like they're really good friends or anything like that. If anything, he just wants to see him. He misses Harry.

"Is it weird?" Zayn scrunched up his eyebrows. "That I want him there, I mean. Like. We just met."

"Is that what this is all about? You think he'll think you're weird and all that?" Louis nods. Zayn wants to make fun of him so bad right now, wants to tease the hell out of him because he's acting like a hormonal ten year old boy with a crush. But he won't. He knows Louis needs this. "No. Hey, look at me." He reaches over, places his hand on top of Louis's, lightly going over his knuckles. "It's gonna be alright, yeah? He's gonna be there. But not if you don't call him right now, you twat."

Louis smiles a bit at that. "Okay, yeah. Yeah. You're right." His eyes lock onto his phone that's sitting on the table to his left.

"Want me to leave you alone?" Zayn asks, twisting his body so that his knees point to the outside of their booth.

"No, it's okay. Stay." Louis gives him a small smile, lips quirking up just a bit, but Zayn can see the sincerity and gratefulness in his eyes.

Zayn watches on as Louis unlocks his phone, thumbs gliding across his screen, scanning his contacts for Harry. He looks up at him when he finds it, thumb hovering over the telephone icon.

"Louis, if you don't press that button right-" And then Louis has the phone by his ear, bottom lip going white between his teeth. He looks away from Zayn, choosing to keep his other hand busy by fiddling with the spare napkin on the table.

He watches him the whole time, sees how Louis's face changes during the whole conversation. He starts blushing in ten seconds flat. Zayn can't believe how flustered Louis is getting right now.

"Shut up, Sasquatch." Louis has his head tilted, resting on the back of his hand, lets out a giggle. "Yeah, yeah. See you." He taps the disconnect button and locks his phone, looks up at Zayn with a toothy grin and crinkles by his eyes. "Guess who you're meeting tomorrow."

\--------------------------------------------

His birthday celebrations are never huge. Never. It's the day before Christmas, and everyone is too busy doing their own thing, last minute shopping and preparations, some even out of town. It's become tradition for Louis and Zayn to just spend the day together, and then Louis would make the drive to Doncaster to spend Christmas with his family. It's nice, and it works. Has been for the past three years.

"You sure you're not mad?" "No, it's alright. I swear. I would've said something if I was. I need an excuse to meet him anyway. Hate having to make up a face in my mind every time you go on about him." Zayn tells him, sliding his skinny arms through his coat sleeves.

It hadn't occurred to Louis at the time that this would essentially be breaking their Christmas Eve tradition, bringing Harry into the mix. He was so caught up in just wanting to see him so bad that he didn't even think about it. Oh well. It is his birthday anyway.

"You're so lucky it's not snowing out today." Zayn says as Louis slips his on his Adidas.

"A blessing, that." Louis smiles, gets up and messes with his hair in his mirror. "Do I look okay?" He turns and faces Zayn. His hair's in a soft fringe, got on a white shirt that shows off his collarbones and tattoos, skin tight black jeans that hug his curves perfectly. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t choose this outfit mainly to show off his body to Harry. He’s quite proud of it, if he’s honest. He doesn’t work out for nothing.

"Gorgeous as always.” Zayn confirms, eyeing him up and down. “You sure you're not gonna be cold?"

"Well I mean, how cold can it be?"

"We're going ice skating, mate."

"Yeah, ice skating. Which also can be counted as cardio." He starts towards the door. "I am not gonna be gross and sweaty the first time I see Harry in a week. Would rather freeze." He's holding his front door open, left foot working as a doorstop. "Come on."

\---------------------------------------------

"Oh my god. He's not coming. He's not coming. He’s not coming."

Louis's mind goes haywire, starts worrying that Harry decided to just blow him off. He's probably laughing at him right now, actually. He can picture his dimples on full display. His long, slim body laid out on his bed. Or maybe he's with another boy, cozying up with them like he did with him last week. Or even worse: what if he's with a girl. Oh god. He's never hoped for a boy to be gay this bad before.

"Lou. It's been four minutes."

He feels like he's about to cry when he suddenly can't see. Dry, warm hands are covering his eyes, have a tight grip to his face.

"Zayn. What the fuck, mate?" He brings his hands up to try and claw the hands away.

"S'not me."

"This isn't funny, Z. Get off of me! I'm trying to look for-"

"Guess whoooooo," a familiar deep voice rumbles into his left ear. The hands come off of his eyes, and when they finally get adjusted to the light, Louis is met with piercing green eyes and white teeth, full pink lips and deep dimples. "Happy birthday, Louis." And then he's surrounded, strong arms wrapped around his small waist. His face is buried into Harry's chest, smelling strongly of cologne, and warm. So so so warm. Louis thinks that if he had to choose one place to stay in for the rest of his life, it would be Harry’s arms. Yeah. That would be nice.

"Thank you, thank you for coming." Louis smiles up at him, takes a step back once their grip on each other loosens.

Harry's got on a loose fitting flannel, barely buttoned up just above his belly button. It's a nice, deep maroon color, pretty against his pale skin. His bare chest is peeking out, and Louis's eyes are met with his tattoos once again. He gets flashbacks of last week, visions of Harry's damp body in his living room, one of his towels hanging on his waist. He shudders.

Harry turns, holds his hand out in front of him. "And I reckon you're Zayn. I'm Harry." Zayn takes his hand, offers him a smile. "Ice skating, then?"

.

Louis likes showing off. To cute boys, at least. And if that's the reason why he chose to go ice skating today, no one needs to know.

It's not like Louis is incredibly amazing at it, but he is pretty good. He’s quick on his feet and really good at keeping his balance. He can even do fancy turns and spins and those tricks where you jump in the air and stuff like that. He's taught Zayn quite a bit too over the years. He loves skating with him whenever the seasonal rink opens, loves getting on the ice and racing him. It’s a nice little hidden talent he has, loves impressing unsuspecting boys like Harry with it.

"You know," Harry huffs, sliding his feet in and tying up the laces on his skates. "I've never actually done this before."

Louis and Zayn look at each other and laugh. "Never?"

.

Harry is so bad. Oh my god, he's so bad. He couldn’t even last a whole second, nearly fell flat on his face when he first stepped on the ice. Louis was quick to grab him by the waist, steady him against his body.

"It's- it's really slippery." He's holding onto Louis for dear life, cold hand pressed hard on his shoulder.

"It's ice, Harry. Couldn't have expected it to be like carpet could you?"

"Oh, god." Harry's legs look like noodles, twisting this way and that. Louis feels bad for thinking he’s cute like this, kind of like he’s a helpless little baby who’s trying to walk for the first time.

"Here, grab that bar." Louis directs him. He steadies Harry's other hand off his shoulder, and moves to grab his left in his right, intertwining their fingers. "Good?"

"Yeah, m'fine." Harry turns to him, smiles. Visible white of the cold air coming out from his warm mouth when he huffs out a laugh. "Where's Zayn?"

"Don't worry about him. We know a lot of the staff here, sure he’s gone off with one of them. Let me just teach you, yeah?"

"Okay, yes, please. Please teach me your ways, ice prince."

Half an hour later, Harry's gotten the hang of standing on his own. He can actually skate in a straight line for a bit too, but he's always got to have Louis there to catch him when he fumbles. In two hours, Harry ends up being able to balance himself on his own. He can skate quite smoothly too, a nice, moderate pace around the rink. Louis tells him to try to make his way towards the middle, be less dependent on the bar at the edge, so he does. Or he tries, at least. He falls on his bum a couple of times, and on his knees too many times to count.

Louis guides him, watches him fondly as he stumbles but continues to get up. He takes a moment to appreciate him then, the look of determination, the flush of his cheeks, the tip of his tongue peeking out just that bit between his plush lips. He's so cute.

“Hey, come on. Let’s skate around the middle. It’s more exhilarating.”

“Lou, I’m gonna fall flat on my face.”

“No, trust me,” Louis extends his hand out and smiles at him, eyebrows raised expectantly. “I won’t leave you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

\----------------------------------------------

They're in a pub now, after Louis's stomach had refused to shut up. It's all cheap food and good drinks, teasing and stolen glances. Zayn gets pissed off his ass, just like Louis had expected. He's got it good, has got no plans for Christmas this year, his mum and sisters on a girls' holiday. Honestly, Louis would love to get totally wasted, but he's got the drive to Doncaster to worry about, and he can't show up at his mum's house if he wakes up hungover.

"He always gets like this?" Harry asks, motioning towards Zayn. He's slurring out something in some mystery man's ear over by the bar. The man says something back, and Louis can see Zayn blushing from where he's seated. Gross.

"No, actually," He's fumbling with his own hands underneath the table. "It's usually only me and him, but he knows that since I've got you, it's alright." Louis meets Harry's eyes, catches the way he looks at him. "I mean, he's more of a drinker than I am, but he won't go this far if that means leaving me alone."

"I get it, yeah. Good... friend?"

Louis squints at Harry. "Why that tone?"

"Don't want to get the label wrong. You're just mates, I assume? Or are you together like-"

"Oh god, no," Louis laughs. "No, no. As gorgeous as he is, definitely not. Best friends is all. I'm as single as one can be."

"Right," Harry's eyes light up, corners of his mouth quirking up, kind of looking like he's suppressing a full on smile. "Yeah. He's a good friend."

They order one too many drinks, just enough to get them a little past buzzing. They've gotten closer together in their booth, Harry's arm resting on Louis's shoulders and nose pressed in his hair. They're in a constant fit of giggles and shameless teasing.

"Why are your hands so big?" Louis holds one of Harry's in both of his. "Look at it," he brings it up to his face, peeks in between Harry's fingers at him. "It's the size of my whole face."

"You're so pretty," Harry says, staring intently at Louis's face as he smiles dopily at him. "Got a cute little nose."

Louis scrunches his nose at that. "You're weird. Noses aren't cute. They're noses." His voice slurs out, taking his finger to boop Harry's.

"Yours is." Harry's smiling down at him, appreciating having him this close. Louis is looking back at him, and Harry doesn't think he's ever seen his eyes this soft before.

"Harryyyy," Louis sings, twisting his fingers in Harry's curls. "Haaaaaaaarry, Harrrrrry, Harry."

"What is it?" He says gently, turning his knees in towards him, pressing them into Louis's thighs.

"M'sleepy. Want to go to bed," His eyes are droopy, head leaning back onto the cushion of their seat. "Take me to bed?"

"What about Zayn?"

"He's good, found his own prince to take care of him," Louis whines, pouting. "Just take me home."

Harry laughs. "Yeah, yeah okay, love. I'll get you home," Harry untangles his arm from Louis, pretends not to notice when Louis scoots in that much closer, making up for the loss. He rubs his eyes, takes a couple sips of water, trying to sober up enough to the point where he can drive. "Are you sure?"

"Please."

\--------------------------------------------

Louis wakes up, only has the slightest of headaches from last night. He smiles at what he remembers, Harry falling on the ice, drunk Zayn all over that huge man. As far as he knows, last night was amazing.

He realizes it's Christmas then, realizes that he's got to drive over to see the family. He gets up to make himself some tea. He’s gonna need it if he wants to feel any better.

When he finishes making his cuppa, he decides he should give his mum a call, let her know he'll be on his way over soon, just needs to take a shower and load up his car with the presents he’s gotten for everyone. He finds his phone in his jeans from last night, fishes it out of the pocket.

He's walking back towards the kitchen when he taps the home button, blindly scrolls through the notifications that have flooded his lock screen. Amongst the tweets and Facebook wall post notifications for his birthday yesterday, he sees an iMessage notification.

Harry 03:27

iMessage (3)

He quickly swipes on it, heart rate beating just a bit over tempo as he rests his thumb on the home button to unlock his screen.

_Thanks for tonight, Lou lou!!! I had a ton of fun, even if I do have bruises on my knees and a sore bum now_

_Also, I've left you a little something under your Christmas tree. Sorry I didn't have the chance to give it to you directly. But I really, really, really hope you like it._

_See you soon? x_

Louis races for his living room, a smile left on his face from reading the texts. He wasn't expecting any gifts yesterday, but he's especially curious to see what Harry got for him, what made Harry think of him in the shops.

He drops to his knees when he gets to his tree, shuffling through the gifts he's gotten for his family to look for the one Harry left him last night. He looks around for a good couple of minutes, confused when he doesn't see any boxes with his name on it.

He sits cross legged on his floor amongst all the presents he moved about. He contemplates texting Harry what he was on about, doesn't see anything he left for him, when he sees it. An envelope. Nothing fancy. Just a plain white sealed envelope with "Lou" scrawled on the front in black ink.

Louis picks it up tentatively, flips it over, sees a little "H" written in the bottom corner. He wedges a finger under an unsealed part of the flap and rips it open.

His jaw drops as he pulls out what's inside. He takes his phone, snaps a quick selfie with the gift and sends it to Zayn. Then he texts Harry.

_You. Did. Not._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been so long since i've updated, SORRY
> 
> anyway i really hope this chapter's okay, i know it's kind of all over the place so sorry about that too
> 
> thanks for reading!!! can't wait for you all to find out what H got for Louis :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter 4 for you all!!! to be completely honest, this is an extremely self indulgent chapter, as it's full of loads of my fave things: banter and fluff
> 
> it's also quite a big chapter too, both in length (at least in my standards) and plot. i hope you guys enjoy!!!!
> 
> also big thank you for the kudos and comments you guys give me! this is my first actual fic, and it means so so much that i get good feedback from you guys
> 
> PS: for the last scene in this chapter, i used this video as a reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2fuuBLkDBcE so there's a visual for you :-)

Harry's just gotten out of the shower, pads over to his phone to skip the song that's blasting from his speakers. He's not in the mood for sappy love songs right now, wants to change it to Michael Buble, feels like listening to his Christmas album just to be festive. Then he sees the text.

He smirks, imagines what Louis's face must have been like when he opened the envelope.

H: _You like it?_

L: _more like love !!! could almost kiss you right now_

Harry can't contain his smile, so incredibly happy that Louis likes, no, loves it. He rereads that last bit over and over, cheeks going red. _Could almost kiss you right now._ He's about to reply something flirty back, wants to challenge him, tell him to go ahead, come over to his flat and kiss him. He thinks over it too long though, because then his phone is buzzing again.

L: _how did you even know i like Coldplay? you go through my iTunes when i wasn't looking or…._

L: _also, how in the hell did you manage third row?!?! the show sold out in like four seconds_

L: _sorry, love, too many questions. really can't help myself though_

L: _i'm just so over the moon right now. thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!!!!!_

\------------------------------------------------

It's been nearly a month. They’ve seen each other quite a few times in between, casual visits to each other’s flats or a lunch outing whenever they’ve got spare time. They text everyday, small conversations that really aren’t necessary but happen anyway. There’s no coherence to them usually, mostly just loose, meaningless thoughts that they feel like getting out, but it's something, and it's entertaining, and it’s fun. They always get Louis smiling, sometimes even laughing, because Harry is cute, but also extremely strange.

I guess you could say that they're good friends now, and Louis couldn't be happier, honestly. It’s been awhile since he’s felt this kind of connection with someone, and the fact that he gets on with Harry so well is so nice. Refreshing, even. I mean, there’s still Zayn, of course he’s still there, but the addition of Harry in his life is something that he didn’t know he needed so badly. Before him, he was starting to accept that maybe he just wasn’t boyfriend material, would end up lonely and remain on the dating scene until he was fat, old, and withered. He doesn’t know what it is about Harry, but he seems to give him a sense of hope again. Because even if Harry doesn’t see Louis like that, only sees him as a good friend rather than a lover, he proves to Louis that things change, new people can come into your life at any time and take their toll on you, even the cute boy on the bus.

.

It's the day of the concert, and for the first time in months, Louis wakes up excited. He feels like a kid on Christmas morning, has that same adrenaline rush he remembers having when he was five. He goes to check the time on his phone and sees a text from Harry, sent nearly an hour ago.

H: _Rise and shine, Lou!! Chris Martin is waiting for us_

H: _I'll be there around noon xx_

He's got three hours then, which leaves him just enough time to eat, shower, and figure out what to wear. Perfect. Today is going to be perfect.

.

After much deliberation, Louis decides on a sheer black cut off and another pair of jet black skinnies. He would've went for something nicer, not just plain black and something so casual, but comfort is definitely key when it comes to dressing for concerts, he's come to learn. He once wore a button up to see the Script concert some years ago, and that was horrible, had the fabric of it sticking to him the whole time. So yeah, no. This will do. Plus the thin material of his top will keep him from getting too sweaty which he, and Harry, can appreciate.

He's about to put on his shoes (his Adidas, obviously, because again, comfort is key) when there's a knock at his door.

Louis rushes over there, one foot still bare and the other covered with a sock as he jogs to get the door.

He unlocks it, pulls it open to see Harry standing there, smiling at him.

It's kind of on impulse, kind of because he still doesn't feel like he's thanked him enough, kind of because he just likes physical contact with Harry. Louis surges forward before he can even say anything and wraps his arms around Harry's neck, his mouth resting by his right ear.

"Still can't believe this is actually gonna happen. Thank you so so much." Louis manages, lips brushing against the shell of Harry's ear.

He feels the younger boy's arms squeeze around his middle, feels the vibrations from his chest as he lets out a laugh against his hair in response.

\-----------------------------------------------

They opted to take the train over to Manchester, didn't want to pay for the crazy arena parking prices and wait in the traffic. Once all is good and settled, they file onto the train, find two seats right next to each other.

"We should probably take a nap," Harry says, leaning back in his seat to get comfortable. "It'll be about an hour before we get there."

"Yeah, no thanks, pal. Can't sleep when I'm this excited."

"Suit yourself, then. But don't complain to me when you knock out in the middle of their set."

Louis looks over to him, eyebrows raised. "I could be dead and still be incompetent of knocking out in the middle of a Coldplay performance."

"You're so difficult," Harry sighs, closing his eyes. "Good night, Lou Lou."

"I told you to stop calling me that!" Louis huffs. Harry's got a small smile playing on his lips as he drifts off to sleep.

When Harry wakes up, it's 45 minutes later, and he's got Louis's head resting on his shoulder. He laughs lightly, somehow knew in the back of his mind that Louis would end up falling asleep anyway. He smiles to himself, tilts his head to get a look at the sleeping boy's face. Louis has the tiniest bit of stubble littered across his chin and upper lip, long eyelashes casting shadows on his prominent cheekbones. He watches the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest, stares just a tad longer than normal at the tattoos on his collarbones. Louis is really beautiful, Harry decides. Kind of like an angel, actually. He wants to take a picture and keep it in his pocket forever, doesn't ever want to forget the pretty sight that is a sleeping Louis Tomlinson.

He comes to his senses when he realizes that they're one stop away from Manchester, reluctantly tears his eyes off of Louis's form.

"Louis," he whispers. He's moved his lips by his ear, nose pressed into his soft hair. "Lou. We're almost there."

Harry watches his face, takes note of how his brows furrow that slight bit before he starts to blink his eyes open.

He's still struggling to fully wake up when he lets out a sigh. "Already?" His voice is lower than usual, raspy and soft.

"Yeah, we're - We get off the next stop."

Louis raises his arms above his head, stretching the sleep out of himself. "Good," he smiles, flashing Harry with a toothy grin. "Can't wait."

\-------------------------------------------

They're in the city extremely early, just like they'd planned. It's 2 in the afternoon, and the concert doesn't start for another five hours. It seems quite excessive, but Harry had suggested they get there super early so they could just hang out before. He had said that it was just a part of Louis's birthday gift, to spend not only the night but afternoon with him as well. Louis thought it was kind of strange, but it was cute too, really really cute. Of course he agreed.

Right when they get out on the streets, Harry's got his camera out, starts snapping pictures of the city.

"A proper artsy kid, aren't you?" Louis teases. Harry quickly turns towards him, focuses in on Louis, and takes a picture. It happens in two seconds flat, and Louis doesn't even realize until Harry moves to look at the screen on his camera, laughs, and turns it around for him to see.

"Should use this for all of your profile pictures." Louis moves closer, places his hands on top of Harry's and pulls the camera closer to his face. He's staring just to the right of the camera, lips parted. It’s quite a dramatic shot, something you’d see on a Burberry ad, but he likes it.

"Do look quite good, don't I?" He smiles at Harry, laughs a bit. "Totally model material."

"Don't flatter yourself too much, love."

Louis raises his eyebrows, crosses his arms over his chest. "And what's that supposed to mean? You're calling me ugly?"

"Wouldn't even dare. Besides, we both know that's the farthest thing from true." Harry winks at him, has got a smirk on his face. Louis is speechless, starts blushing immediately. "M'hungry. Want to go to my favorite bakery here?" And Louis just nods, still can't manage to say anything out loud.

They walk through Manchester side by side, bare arms brushing with every movement they make. It's nice, taking their sweet time and just relishing in the moment, knowing damn well in the back of their minds that in just a few hours they're gonna be a mess of adrenaline. Harry has his camera hanging around his neck, and his eyes are constantly moving, presumably to look for new things to take pictures of.

“Do you bring that with you everywhere?” Louis starts, eyes flickering up to Harry’s face. “Your camera, I mean.”

“Not everywhere, but most places, yeah,” Harry looks down at it where it’s resting at his middle. “Like if I’m just running to Tesco for groceries and stuff, obviously not. But for things like this, of course. Love capturing a good time.” He looks at Louis, giving him a smile.

“You’re having a good time right now, then? You love spending time with me. Admit it.” Louis’s got a smirk on his face, loves teasing Harry like this. He’s surprised at himself actually, is never this flirty around anyone really. He loves getting reactions out of Harry though, loves hearing what he retaliates with.

Harry just barks out a laugh, nudges Louis’s side with his elbow. “For sure, Lou. For sure.”

And see, it’s things like these that make Louis wonder. Harry’s really good at being ambiguous, is the thing. Louis doesn’t know if he’s teasing, poking fun at him, or if he’s dead serious. His tone is playful and flirty, but his _eyes_. His eyes and the way he smiles at him, that’s what makes him guess again what Harry really means. Sometimes when they make eye contact, Louis feels himself stop breathing, feels frozen in place with the way Harry looks at him. It’s just. It’s so intense, the way Harry looks at Louis as if he’s the only thing in the world that matters. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever looked at him like that before. Not even his mum, probably.

They’ve found a nice, cozy spot in the corner of the small bakery. Louis’s got his tea, Harry’s got his mocha, and they’re splitting a sandwich and scone after Harry scolded him to eat.

“I’m not hungry, young Harold.”

“No, Lou,” He had said, placing the food he bought on the table. “Eat. Or we’re not going.”

Louis huffed, plopped down on the chair across Harry. “Fine, mum. And don’t worry, I cleaned my room.”

“Did you now?” Harry’s got an impressed smile on his face. “Good job, _boo bear_.”

“How…” Louis’s looking at him, eyes wide. “How did you know my mum called me that?”

Harry laughs behind his cup, downs a sip of mocha. “Was looking through the scrapbooks on your coffee table the other day.” Louis covers his face with his hands, blushing. “Don’t worry, s’cute.”

\---------------------------------------------

Okay, maybe five hours early was a bit much. They finish eating in an hour, and now they've got four hours of downtime, three and a half if you include the time it'll take for them to get to the arena. They don't really plan on getting there early, don't need to since it's not some general admission kind of crap. Louis hates that kind of thing, would much rather sleep in his bed than on the street just to score front row. But then again, this is Coldplay so. Maybe. Just for them, though.

They find a small, run down shopping center, decide to go around and just kill time. There's a grocery store and a hair salon, an optometry office and a thrift shop amongst the mix.

"Ooh, can we go in there?" Louis suggests, pointing to the thrift shop.

"Whatever you wish, got all the time in the world anyway."

They get lost in it for an hour at the least, because it's actually massive. It's so deceiving. From face value you wouldn't expect rows upon rows of clothing and shoe racks. They've wandered away from each other in search of their own things. Last time Louis checked, Harry was over by the media section, flipping through the CD’s and records that people have abandoned.

He looks up, and sees that he's moved, is now in the home decor. He notices how his hair gets in his face as he looks down at the knick knacks. His huge hands constantly come up to brush the curls away, and Louis can't help but imagine how annoying that must be. He's never grown his hair anywhere near that length in his whole life, never would, probably. He turns away before Harry can catch him staring, continues shuffling through all of the things hung up. Something catches his eye, and he makes a quick, impulse decision and heads straight to the registers before he can change his mind.

"You ready to go?" Harry asks. He's spotted Louis coming towards him over a rack of sweaters he's picking through.

"Close your eyes and lay your hands out in front of you." Louis says in return, eyes glimmering.

"Why..."

"As the great Shia Labeouf once said, just do it." Louis's in front of him now, a mischievous smile on his face. "I swear I won't kill you or anything. Just do it."

And so Harry does, playing along with Louis's games. Just as quickly as he'd shut his eyes, he feels something soft in his hands. It's super light, just barely there.

"Okay, open up."

It's a thin, sheer piece of fabric. It's black and has got light pink flowers printed all over it, and it’s actually really, really pretty. Harry smiles down at Louis, dimples surfacing. “A scarf?”

“No, silly,” Louis gets closer to him, snatches the fabric from Harry’s hands. “Actually, yeah? Kind of. It’s a headscarf. You like, fold it ‘round like this, and then tie it in the back. Keeps your hair out of your face, I don’t know. I have a student with hair as long as yours, and he comes in with one of these all the time.”

“It’s. It’s really, really nice, Lou. Thank you.” He says, pulls Louis into a quick but firm hug. He rests his hand on his shoulder, still smiling when he looks down at him. “Help me put it on?”

“Yeah, ‘course. Crouch down a bit though, can’t reach that high.”

Harry hunches over, face now level with Louis’s chest. “Little Lou.” He laughs a bit, loves that nickname because it's catchy and it's cute and for the record, very accurate. He waits patiently as Louis fumbles around with the headscarf.

“Okay. Look at me.”

And Harry stands up straight, tilts his head down to look at Louis. He rises up on his tip toes, brows furrowed in concentration as he fusses with his hair some more. He ruffles it up a bit, almost feels like a head massage. Harry stares at Louis’s face, studies the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the brightness of his eyes. He stares at his slightly parted lips, light pink and a bit cracked, but he wants to kiss them all the same.

“Done.” Louis rests his heels on the ground, steps back and examines his work.

“Do I look good?”

“Yeah,” Louis laughs. “Yeah, you do. Should hire me as your personal stylist.”

Harry finds a mirror, examines his new look for himself. “Yeah, maybe I should.”

\--------------------------------------

They’ve finally made it in the arena, completely buzzing with excitement. Louis looks over at Harry’s face as they go through the crowd to get to their seats. He’s smiling, eyes open wide, looking in every single direction as he takes in the scene before him. He suddenly looks down, catches Louis staring at him.

“You excited?”

“That’s the stupidest question ever. Yes, I’m excited, idiot.”

They get to their row, third from the stage, and file in to look for their seat numbers. Louis walks in front, has Harry’s hand resting on his shoulder as they squeeze past the others.

“I see them, H!” Louis picks up his pace, leaving Harry’s hand to drop back to his side. “15 and 16. Right here!” He’s standing a few feet away from Harry as he continues on through the row, face beaming, crinkles by his eyes. Harry catches the way Louis’s feet shuffle about in front of his seat, doing a little happy dance. He's never seen Louis this happy before, and he almost wants to just grab him and pinch his cheeks and hug him forever.

Louis is so caught up in his happiness, too distracted to notice Harry taking out his camera and taking several pictures of him. It would be creepy, but it’s not. Harry just never wants to forget this moment. Not tomorrow, not next week, not next month, not next year, not next century. Never. The look on Louis’s face right now, the fact that Harry was the one who did this, who made him this happy. These are the kinds of moments he lives for, this feeling of pride and happiness. And now he’s got a photo of it, to keep and treasure forever. He’s probably gonna frame it, keep it in his living room as a constant reminder of all of the emotions he’s feeling right now. Yeah, he’ll definitely do that. What he’ll say if Louis sees it and questions it, he doesn’t know, but that’s a later problem.

Harry’s got a hand in his now, looks up and sees that it’s none other than Louis, still beaming.

“Come on. Taking so long, just left me all alone. Jerk. You can take pictures from our seats.” And then Harry’s smiling, moves his hand around to tangle their fingers together as they walk the few seats down together. Louis’s hand is small and cold against his, and Harry thinks he’d be okay if their hands stayed like this forever, wouldn’t mind one bit if he had to be around Louis for the rest of his life.

.

The concert is amazing, not like they had expected anything less. The energy of the crowd is something neither of them have ever experienced before, even with their extensive history of concerts. Both of them live off everyone's highs and the music blaring from the speakers. It’s all a mess of screaming and good music, dancing where they’re stood in front of their seats, stealing sneaky glances at each other as they get lost in Chris Martin’s voice.

“Everybody, put your hands in the air. Please, everyone, put your hands in the air.” Chris speaks into his microphone. Harry and Louis's arms immediately go up, Louis’s hand nudging Harry’s forearm as he sways to the first chords of the song.

It’s _Charlie Brown_ , and Louis’s already started cheering, screaming at the top of his lungs because this is his absolute favorite. It’s that one song that he loves listening to when he doesn’t feel his best and he needs a foolproof pick-me-up. It’s got incredible energy and Louis feels like he’s about to lose it, if he hasn’t done so already. The music flows into his body through his ears, and Louis's practically swimming in it. He doesn't even feel like he's doing any of this consciously anymore, more like the music has taken refuge of his body and is making him move like this by nature.

Everyone at the show was given a little light up wristband, automated so that they flash with the beat of the music. It’s one of the best things either of them have ever experienced, really. The arena is a sea of neon pink, green, blue, purple, all flickering when the beat drops, can see them moving up and down as everyone jumps.

It’s in the midst of that song when Harry looks down at Louis, turns his head to the left and smiles as he watches him. It’s in the way that Louis is so into it, soft fringe moving with him as he bounces on the balls of his feet. It’s in the way that he’s singing his heart out, his voice projecting every single lyric with such vivacity and confidence. Or maybe it’s in the way that Louis turns to him too, still singing, smiling up at him as his body continues to move. The colorful lights are casting beautifully upon his face, looks stunning in every shade, every combination of any of them, even in the dark when the lights turn off at the end of the song.

Harry maneuvers his arm and slides it around his waist, pulling Louis into his side. There really is no motive for it at all, just wants Louis, craves his touch, needs him closer. The shorter boy turns toward him, puts his hand on Harry and rests his head against his shoulder. He’s sweaty, and Harry can feel him breathing on him, the short, quick pants coming out of his mouth as he calms down from the song. Harry doesn’t think it over, just does it really, and moves to kiss Louis’s hair. A quick, short peck, couldn't have lasted even a second.

Louis's head still rests on his shoulder, but then he tilts his face up, smiling at Harry. It’s not one of those toothy ones, not like the ones Louis has when he teases him, or when he thanks him for making his tea, or when he holds the door open for him. The corners of his mouth are quirked up just that bit in a small smile. Small, but sincere. There are crinkles by his eyes, the light blue of them glimmering under the lights coming from the stage. Harry is staring at him, reciprocating Louis’s expression, and the next thing he knows, Louis’s hand is on his cheek and his lips are on his. It’s genuine, and it’s slow, and it feels so, so good.

Louis's lips feel as they look, warm, dry, and thin, but Harry wouldn't have it any other way. It's soft and gentle, Louis cradling his cheek as if he's made of glass. Their eyes fall closed, Harry's hands holding the sides of Louis's waist. Louis moves to bury his hands in Harry's hair, the headscarf cool and smooth against his knuckles. It’s over in ten seconds, and Louis immediately moves his head to the crevice of Harry’s neck, hiding his face. Louis breathes Harry in, keeps his eyes closed. Harry just leans into it, hands still on his waist, tightening his grip on Louis, nails digging into the soft cotton of his shirt. He smiles against Harry, and he can feel it, the way that his cheeks move and his teeth touch his skin. Louis places a quick kiss to his neck, and Harry just envelopes him, holds him tighter than he ever has before, his body completely covering Louis's. He feels so connected to him, can feel Louis's heart racing against his chest, matching his exactly.

And in that moment, they're not even at a concert. They're not surrounded by tens of thousands of people. They're not drowning in vocals and piano and guitar and bass. It's just them. Them together. HarryandLouis. Their hearts beat in sync as they stand in each other's embrace, and for the first time since meeting each other, they feel complete.


End file.
